


your husband's dick is inside of me right now (but i'd rather have your fingers instead)

by Leutik



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: 56 scenes to fall in love, F/F, Hierarchy, Mind Games, Power Play, mistress x handmaid au, the major character death (spoiler) is andrew, the violence description is that + slapping, very brief description of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leutik/pseuds/Leutik
Summary: Ms. Goodkind stands up, and walks up to Toni. She’s taller even without her heels on, as if her power over Toni was genetic, natural, something that couldn’t be changed.«It’s no problem, ma’am.»«I’d like you to call me Shelby, when we’re alone.»Toni feels the dangers of that. But again, she cannot disobey, so she nods once, and keeps silent.Ms. Goodkind’s lips turn upwards, as if understanding straight away what Toni is doing. If she can avoid punishment, she will, of course. Even beasts like her know self-preservation.«Say the words, Toni.»Toni’s heart rate increases, and suddenly, perhaps because of the setting, perhaps because of Ms. Goodkind’s assertiveness, Toni feels like challenging her all over again, like she’s been doing for the past few years, until Andrew’s death.«I’d really rather not.»It’s what happens next, that has Toni’s breath knocked out of her lungs.or: the handmaids tale x the wilds au(not really a crossover, im just borrowing the handmaids tale setting)
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 143





	your husband's dick is inside of me right now (but i'd rather have your fingers instead)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: i really don't think it's written in a triggering way, but im warning anyways: scene VIII is the one the rape is described, while in scene IX and XXXIII it's just mentioned.
> 
> i'm using the shelby that shouts at becca and soft toni post-kiss as references, so they might sound a bit ooc
> 
> basically, if you've never watched the handmaids tale: there's a sort of revolution, the fertility rate has dropped, so the few women who are fertile are sold to important/aristocratic families as handsmaids, to carry their babies. there's a whole ritual where they have to have sex with the husbands while they're between the wife's hands.

> _i._

Ms. Goodkind is the queen here. She has all the power, she has all the control.

The staff has to enter second, during the Ceremony. First the handmaid, then them, then the Mistress, and lastly, him.

The filthy, stinky, smelly, ugly, stupid, gross — she’s running out of generic insults now — husband. Toni _hates_ him. No, that’s not true. She hates everybody, sure, but more than hating him, Toni finds him repulsing. Disgusting. Pitiful. She wants to hit him all the time, but that’s not the definition of hate Toni would use.

Not after Ms. Goodkind.

Because Ms. Goodkind is a queen. She’s the only spouse who kept her last name, and forced her husband to change his. Andrew Goodkind. Toni knows Ms. Goodkind’s father has something to do with it, because he’s more powerful than Andrew’s and all that.

Still, Toni isn’t supposed to know any of that. Toni doesn’t even know what Ms. Goodkind’s first name is, but she once let Andrew’s name slip past her lips, during one of the Ceremonies, that’s why Toni knows his.

Ms. Goodkind has all the power, and she always makes sure to let Toni know that.

> _ii._

It’s a ritual. She’s told what day of the month it is — the first of the three most fertile days of hers — and just with that, Toni knows. She knows she’s finally allowed to take a bath, even if it’s for preparation. To get all her supposed impurities out of her skin, and let the Lord make Andrew’s sperm inseminate her.

Toni gags.

Still, the water is a luxury, and that’s the only thing she likes about those three days. The little attention, because Toni has one of the very few working uteri in the city, that’s why she became property of the family whose wives were infertile.

It’s been almost a year now, so Toni knows it’s most likely that it’s Andrew the dysfunctional one, and not Ms. Goodkind. But there’s no such thing as an infertile man, here, because only women can fail.

So Toni is doomed to be fucked by that pig every month, for three evenings, at nine o’clock, in the Goodkind’s bedroom.

But the bath isn’t the only thing Toni doesn’t hate about those days. She immerses her body until only the nose is sticking out, looking at the distorted image of her body through the little waves, in the bathtub.

The other thing Toni likes — no, that Toni _loves_ — is Ms. Goodkind’s loss of control.

> _iii._

It’s a ritual, as she kneels on the little cushion that has been laid out of her, right in front of Ms. Goodkind’s throne. Where she’ll sit down, with her perfect cheekbones and perfect nose, perfect lips and sharp eyes, a jawline to kill, the neck of royalty, hair tied up in the perfect chignon, Toni can’t help but always wonder how long it takes her in the morning to make it so complicated.

Toni despises those three days, she loathes Andrew and his dick, because, even if she wasn’t a lesbian, it’d be _gross_ . But no, “lesbian” isn’t a word one is allowed to say, nor to think, much like “sterile man”. It’s "gender traitor", now. Not gay, not lesbian. Gender _traitor_.

Well, Toni would betray anyone, for some good sex right now, so that’s only fitting.

> _iv._

The sound of the door opening. A pair of unsynchronized steps. The door closing.

Toni doesn’t need to look behind her shoulders to know that the staff has arrived: the cook and the driver, each of them behind one of Toni’s shoulders.

A minute goes by. Perhaps longer, because Toni is counting her heartbeats, and she’s sure she isn’t going 60 bpm.

The door opens again. The sound of heels clicking on the wooden pavement. Toni feels her heart in her throat.

Ms. Goodkind doesn’t have control over the structure of the situation, but she sure has over the details. Toni isn’t allowed to look at her in the eyes, for example. The first time she tried, she was slapped.

So Toni stares at Ms. Goodkind’s feet, at her slender ankles, at her calves crossing one on top of the other, always so elegant, always so feminine. Like a renaissance picture, with not a single hair out of its place.

If Toni didn’t know better, she’d think, like she did the first few months, that Ms. Goodkind has the perfect life.

> _v._

He has to knock. Because everything belongs to Ms. Goodkind: his last name, this property, all of his money. Ms. Goodkind can’t work, because she’s a woman, but Toni is pretty sure all of their financial decisions have to be approved by her first.

Toni hates her. But fuck, if she doesn’t _respect_ her.

Andrew knocks, and Ms. Goodkind’s voice shakes Toni’s core.

«Come in.» 

Toni gulps, because that voice is stern, it’s cold, it’s as sharp as the Mistress’ features and behaviour. The words are composed, calculated, and Toni is overthinking, overanalyzing, to try and understand in what attitude she’ll find her later.

Toni isn’t allowed to look at Andrew either, in theory, but it matters less. Ms. Goodkind slapped her just once, when she looked at him, while he was speaking. The second time — because Toni is a slow learned, and that is such an obstacle for a handmaid — Ms. Goodkind just looked at her with a warningly expression. Jealousyin her eyes.

Toni has no idea how a lady like Ms. Goodkind — for how controlling and sociopath as she is — could be jealous of a dickhead like Andrew. She gave him everything he has, and the ungrateful bitch still acts as if he owned her, even if he always pays the price for it.

Thankfully for Toni, she almost always is around, when that happens.

« _And when Rachel saw that she bore Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob, “Give me children, or else I die.”_ » His voice is obnoxious, like everything else about him. Genesis 30,1. But something about this part of the ritual makes Toni try to sneak at Ms. Goodkind’s feature, even if it’ll cost her a little bit of pain and humiliation. And every single time, Toni finds Ms. Goodkind with a distant expression, with a sad one, as if she truly is about to die.

Toni doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get why not having children is a failure, and more so, if it’s him and not her the problem.

Toni doesn’t understand if Ms. Goodkind hates Toni so much to leave her in her room for days and treat her that harshly, why she doesn’t kick her out and ask for a replacement. For a meeker handmaid. One that won’t still try and fight her with the littlest gestures, like Toni.

« _So she said, “Here is my maid Bilhah; go in to her, and she will bear a child on my knees, that I also may have children by her.”_ »

Ms. Goodkind is Rachel, Andrew is Jacob, and Toni is Bilhah. She was taught that much. Toni was just a uterus with a pair of legs now, and perhaps that’s precisely why she’s holding onto her sanity, trying to make Ms. Goodkind’s perfect life just a bit messier.

> _vi._

As they walk towards the Goodkind’s bedroom, Toni can’t help but think about the past week. How Ms. Goodkind told her — no, _ordered her_ — not to leave her room. How she always made sure to leave the door half-opened, unlocked, to show her power on Toni even more. How Ms. Goodkind picked up on the fact that isolation was Toni’s most feared punishment.

She just broke a plate. It was Ms. Goodkind’s favourite, but she was arguing with the driver in the kitchen, and the cook walked between them, so Toni miscalculated, and pushed her with him too.

Toni was blamed, for the plate that fell from the cook’s hand, as Ms. Goodkind rushed in the kitchen, to see what happened. Her gaze locked with Toni’s, and Toni knew she wasn’t supposed to stare back, but _fuck_. Ms. Goodkind surely was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her entire life.

But also the most merciless, that bitch. Toni was forced to complete isolation for the next week, in which Toni bumped her head against the wall endlessly.

She found a way to cut her isolations short, once she stopped eating for protest, months ago, and she fainted. She was sent to the doctor, and Ms. Goodkind looked _concerned_.

But Toni isn’t stupid, she knows she was concerned to have damaged the baby-making machine Toni was equipped with. Ms. Goodkind doesn’t give a shit about her.

And Toni can’t understand why the fuck she cares.

> _vii._

This is Toni’s favourite part.

Well, it lasts just a second, so she has to be alert.

She stands just after the door, now closed behind her back, Andrew behind it, because, again, he has to knock _._

Toni watches Ms. Goodkind walking to the bedroom, crawling on it, turning around, sitting on it with spread legs. She has her long aquamarine silk dress on, so there really isn’t anything sexual about it yet.

Ms. Goodkind then looks at her. She always does, to tell her to join her. Toni’s heart leaps.  
She walks to her, as slowly as Toni can, but not enough to be scolded for it, keeping the Mistress’ gaze on her.

Toni lays between Ms. Goodkind’s knees, just like the Scripture says. She lays there, Toni’s head touching Ms. Goodkind’s thighs with the top of her head, through her dress. If Toni turned around, if she did, and if she raised Ms. Goodkind’s dress-

«Handmaid.» The Mistress tells her, to warn her. Toni knows she has to avoid her gaze, from those impossibly green and hazel and golden eyes. Even if that’s not her name, Toni still feels herself reacting to Ms. Goodkind’s voice.

She feels her eyes on her, as Toni stares at the ceiling, and takes in everything she can with the corner of her eyes. Ms. Goodkind hesitates, before calling in her husband:

«Come in.» 

The pig doesn’t wait, as he opens the door. Toni remembers that one time he dared to mutter a _“why did it take so long?”_ , and how Ms. Goodkind sent him away empty-handed, with a: _“did I allow you to speak?”_

Toni would have kissed her, that one time. Even if she’s a merciless bitch.

> _viii._

There’s a ritual for that too.

Andrew gets closer, and looks at Ms. Goodkind in the eyes. Toni shouldn’t be looking at him, but she knows that the Mistress will be busy silently communicating with him through her gaze, to notice. If he notices, he still has no power to punish Toni, if Ms. Goodkind doesn’t approve.

And Ms. Goodkind never does. As if it was her place and her place only to decide anything about Toni’s life.

After trying to read what mood her wife is in, which is usually cold and stoic, Andrew takes his jacket off. That’s the only thing he’s allowed to take off, for the movement restriction it causes. Not his suspenders, not his watch, not even his belt. He can just unfasten it and unzip his slacks, but he can’t take anything else off.

Then he gets closer, and he isn’t allowed to look at Toni. Toni is thankful for that, god, he’s so distasteful that even his face is repulsing during sex.

He has to look somewhere else, and the first gaze is to ask his wife permission to look at her. She always denies him.

Ms. Goodkind is the only one that can look everywhere she wants, do everything she wants.  
Her house, her rules.

So Andrew holds on to the two little wooden pillars on each side of the bed, getting closer, and as his hands touch Toni’s knees to spread them, she knows her face always twists in disgust.

The first time she kept them shut, but he slapped her, and Ms. Goodkind sent him away.

Then she slapped her too.

And the second time, when Toni still kept them shut, Andrew looked at her first. She sent him away, and as he was gone, she fetched a rope, to force Toni’s legs apart.

It was humiliating, but it was also something else, as the two of them never stood alone in a room. How, as much as Ms. Goodkind was taking part in the obscenity of what could be considered rape, she still managed to be delicate about it.

Toni cried, that first time. That first time and that one time only, because it was humiliating enough. But that was also the only time the Mistress’ hands didn’t grab her wrists to keep her in place, but ran through her hair, trying to calm her down. The only time Toni had been allowed to look at her in the eyes, without repercussions, and Ms. Goodkind looked regretful.

> _ix._

Now Toni is used to it. Eyes on the ceiling, the asshole sticking his dick in and out in the worst way possible. It feels like going to the hairdresser as a child does: something you don’t give a shit about, and you’d rather be playing with other kids, but here you are, sitting there, _waiting_. Hoping they won’t cut one ear off in the process.

Toni is glad he only lasts a few minutes, as if there was anything sexy about that horrifying situation, with a wife who looks at you as if she wanted to punch you, with another woman who looks as if she was about to fall asleep, and you in a position more uncomfortable than the one people on pornos have to be in.

Still, it’s over soon, and Ms. Goodkind sends him away.

Toni is supposed to lay on her back for a minute, so that the sperm — she gags every single time, and the idea she has his liquid inside of her is something she will never get used to, so fucking disgusting — can get to her ovaries or some pseudo-scientific shit.

Ms. Goodkind always gets off the bed first, standing up, looking out of the window. Silently waiting with her.

Toni never understood that. Is that a display of power too? Toni never understood that, but she’s glad, because she really doesn’t feel like being alone, after that violence.

> _x._

Andrew dies.

No one knows how it happened, as the press says it was a natural heart attack, the cook says it was overdose, and the driver says it was suicide.

Toni knows what happened. She’s a hundred per cent sure that it was homicide, and that the Mistress took care of it.

She doesn’t know if she paid a hitman or not, she’s smart enough not to leave any traces. But Toni knows it was her, because she’s been weird all past week.

Silent and pensive like she always is, but with no facade on. Not asking Andrew how work had been, not randomly punishing Toni. As if she was planning something.

Toni had been scared all week, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She wonders if the Government will allow a household with no high-status man in it.

> _xi._

She finds out only days later. Ms. Goodkind is a widow now, so she has even more privileges, for some religious reason. Toni knows her dad might have something to do with it, when Toni was supposed to be transferred to somewhere else she could be useful, but was upgraded to housekeeper.

She’s never been more grateful to do house chores before.

> _xii._

«Housekeeper.» 

Toni still has to get used to the name, as she’s been in this position for a little longer than a month.

She’s grateful for Ms. Goodkind’s kindness — if it was kindness at all — to let Toni work there by her side. She really doesn’t feel like doing it all again, and perhaps get assigned to a house that is ruled by the man, and not the woman. God knows what happens there.

Toni guesses Ms. Goodkind just wanted to keep familiar faces close, in her time of mourning. Even if she looks calmer and more at peace than she ever has. Her black dresses compliment her skin even better.

Because of her gratefulness, Toni has been playing nice, avoiding her little challenges to the Mistress’ patience.

«Yes, Ms. Goodkind?» 

She’s sitting on her armchair by the fireplace, on a weekday evening, a book in hand. Toni doesn’t possibly know what she might want for her. Is there dust around? Toni is pretty sure she cleaned this room yesterday.

«It occurred to me that I don’t know your name.» 

Toni’s heart skips a beat. She wonders if that’s a test, to know if she’s faithful. If she knows that she doesn’t have a right to a first name anymore.

«I’m not supposed to tell you, ma’am» 

Surprisingly enough, for the very first time in Toni’s life, she witnesses Ms. Goodkind huff a laugh. «As if you ever followed the rules.» 

Toni hesitates, and drinks in the sound as much as she can. Ms. Goodkind’s unfurrowed brows, relaxed expression, piercing eyes now laying on her own.

«It’s Toni.» Toni gets out, in a raspier way than she intended to.

Ms. Goodkind stares at her some more, as if deeply fascinated, and Toni feels the urge to take a step forward and get closer, for whatever reason.

«Toni.» The Mistress repeats, as if tasting the word on her tongue. «Mine is Shelby.» 

Toni nods, because she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with the information. It’s not like she can casually call the hostess of the house like that.

Ms. Goodkind looks at her some more, from her feet to her head, studying her.

«You can go now, _Toni_.» 

Toni feels her heart shaking. «Thank you, ma’am.» 

> _xiii._

«Have a good night, Toni.» 

«Thank you, ma’am. Likewise.»

And,

«Did you sleep well, Toni?» 

«I did, ma’am.» followed by a hesitant: «Did you, if I may ask?» 

Ms. Goodkind’s radiant albeit shy smile: «I did, thank you for asking.» 

It goes like this, for a couple of weeks. Toni has no clue if the Mistress is playing some mind games on her, or if she’s truly been blessed to have this new calming routine now.

She has no doubt Ms. Goodkind is sleeping better now, as the Goodkind bedroom has been turned into a painting hall, and the old guest room is now Ms. Goodkind’s new bedroom.

> _xiv._

«I would like you to accompany me to the lakeside, today.» 

Usually, ladies walk with other ladies, their drivers in tow. The rest of the staff is supposed to stay at home and go grocery shopping, at most.

Still, Toni nods, because they have this new special routine now, where Toni is allowed to accompany her.

> _xv._

«It’s pretty, isn’t it?» 

Ms. Goodkind in this floral dress, moved gently by the wind, is pretty. The way the sun makes her eyes shine is pretty. The way her hair escapes from her otherwise always perfect chignon is pretty.

Still, Toni nods, because they have this new special relationship now, where Ms. Goodkind feels like having small talk with her.

> _xvi._

Ms. Goodkind starts asking Toni for financial advice then. And even if Toni doesn’t know shit about any of that, she tries her best.

And Ms. Goodkind seems a bit impressed, and even follows some of them.

> _xvii._

Ms. Goodkind even opens up a bit about her past. How she met Andrew, how much her father liked him. How much Ms. Goodkind loved her mother, how she’s glad Spencer will have a good life, how she hopes Melody finds a good man.

How she hopes Melody will want a man.

After Ms. Goodkind’s words leave her mouth, those: «The best thing a woman could ask in this world, is to fall in love with an unmarried _man_ of her own social status, who will love her back.» 

That is common knowledge, everyone knows that, but fuck, Toni doesn’t miss the emphasis on “man”. And she doesn’t miss Ms. Goodkind’s alarmed gaze right after it either.

Or the immediate: «You can go now.» that follows.

> _xviii._

Perhaps Ms. Goodkind is a lesbian.

Perhaps she killed her husband.

Toni has no idea what to do with this information, much like she doesn’t know why Ms. Goodkind revealed her own name to her, that Toni doesn’t dare pronounce even in the privacy of her own mind. Because god knows what might happen if it slipped past her in a spoken conversation.

Isolation, reassignment.

Toni isn’t that stupid to let her guard down, even if they have this new special relationship now.

> _xix._

Ms. Goodkind smiles at her, now that a year has passed since Andrew’s death. She smiles, and it’s a beautiful Saturday morning, where Toni is washing the windows, and Ms. Goodkind is embroidering by it, to catch the light.

It’s funny, because Toni is outside, and during work she’s allowed to wear trousers, to allow for better movements. She has the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows, little dots of water and soap all over her clothes, her hair up in a ponytail, her forehead a bit sweaty on which she’s running her arm over.

Still, from the other side of the window, Ms. Goodkind smiles at her, alternating stolen glances under her eyelashes to her work.

Toni feels like a teenager, butterflies in her chest. That is dangerous territory, because Ms. Goodkind is a lady, both by gender and social status, and even if Toni was a man, she could never have her.

> _xx._

Ms. Goodkind might think differently, though.

«Toni.» She calls her one night, as Toni is washing the dishes, after the Mistress’ dinner.

«Yes, ma’am?» 

«I’d like to have a word with you in my office, later.» 

Toni nods, «Of course, ma’am.» because, even if they have this new special relationship, Ms. Goodkind still has all the power and all the control, and Toni can only obey her.

> _xxi._

Toni hasn’t set foot in this room for a year now. It’s the Mistress’ office, where the cushion is supposed to be laid for the handmaid, the one that directly connects to the former Goodkind’s bedroom.

Ms. Goodkind is sitting on her throne, that elegant red silky chair placed at the centre of the room, against the wall, on a little platform — to symbolize that those who sit there, are above the rest of the people. Only Ms. Goodkind can sit here.

«Thank you for coming.» Ms. Goodkind says, and Toni would scoff, because did she even have a choice? She keeps her poker face on though, because she is just a houseworker, and the Mistress is on her throne.

«I know it’s not been easy for you.» She says, and that is an understatement, but if she needs it to clear her conscience, Toni will let her. She guesses it hasn’t been very easy on her either, if she truly is a lesbian, and if she truly has killed her own husband.

Ms. Goodkind stands up, and walks up to Toni. She’s taller even without her heels on, as if her power over Toni was genetic, natural, something that couldn’t be changed.

«It’s no problem, ma’am.» 

«I’d like you to call me Shelby, when we’re alone.» 

Toni feels the dangers of that. But again, she cannot disobey, so she nods once, and keeps silent.

Ms. Goodkind’s lips turn upwards, as if understanding straight away what Toni is doing. If she can avoid punishment, she will, of course. Even beasts like her know self-preservation.

«Say the words, Toni.» 

Toni’s heart rate increases, and suddenly, perhaps because of the setting, perhaps because of Ms. Goodkind’s assertiveness, Toni feels like challenging her all over again, like she’s been doing for the past few years, until Andrew’s death.

«I’d really rather not.» 

It’s what happens next, that has Toni’s breath knocked out of her lungs.

It’s ironic, so fucking ironic, how Ms. Goodkind has had power over her in every single way. In how Toni was supposed to dress, what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to be fucked by her husband. And now, of course, Ms. Goodkind is stealing the only thing that was left to Toni, which were her carnal reactions.

Toni follows Ms. Goodkind’s trembling hand — and her hands never ever tremble, always so fierce, always so sure of herself — from the way it was conjuncted with the other one, in front of her, travelling in the space between them. With a step forward, Ms. Goodkind gets even closer, to the way that their air becomes one, and Toni’s nostrils are filled with Ms. Goodkind’s expensive perfume.

Ms. Goodkind’s hand rests on Toni’s mount of venus, and Toni can feel the warmth of her hands even through the double layer of clothing.

Still, it doesn’t go any further. As if Ms. Goodkind knew she had all the control in this world, and could really do everything she wanted, but she was giving some up, returning what was rightfully Toni’s. Asking for consent.

Toni gulps.

«Will you call me by my first name?» 

Toni’s eyes turn a bit glassy, because, what the hell is happening right now. Because Toni hasn’t been touched like that in such a long time, ever since Regan, right before they captured them, and the Government became a patriarchal theocracy. Right before she lost every right and she became similar to a beast.

And if Ms. Goodkind will punish her after, at least Toni will know there’s no escape. But as long as there’s a bit of hope, because Toni is a fighter, she holds on to it. Reckless, with the fiery passion that kept her alive until now.

«Yes, _Shelby ._ » 

It feels weird to her own ears.

Ms. Goodkind- no, Shelby’s eyes turn even kinder, even softer, its green grains turning even deeper, as the hand on Toni’s body rests there, pressing, still, and the other one lifts to take one of Toni’s.

Their fingers intertwine, and it’s even more intimate than Shelby’s hand pressing on Toni’s very intimacy, because that’s a place that has been touched by someone else, while Toni’s hands have always been free, always protected by Shelby holding her wrists in place.

«Can I touch you?» 

Toni hasn’t been asked a question like that, a question not to test her or to make sure she did something she was supposed to, in a very long time. A question that gives her some power, a question she’s allowed to say no to.

And, just because she finally can say no, she does.

«I’d really rather not, ma’am.» 

She’s back with the title, because she just took a step outside of what she’s been allowed to. So she needs a shield, she needs to hold on to what she’s picked up on so far: that powerful people want to feel in control, and if that’s what it takes to be safe, Toni will give them just as much.

Shelby takes a step back with that, her hands leaving Toni’s body, and Toni hates herself for how she misses the contact.

«Alright, then. Goodnight, Toni.» Ms. Goodkind says, a bit cold, a bit hurt, but understanding.

And Toni feels weird, feels both good and bad, for having rejected her.

A little revenge, and a million steps back from the special relationships they had.

> _xxii._

Toni doesn’t call Ms. Goodkind “Shelby” again.

She doesn’t, but she gladly finds out that Ms. Goodkind is willing to act as if that night in her office never happened.

They walk by the lakeside together, they chat, Ms. Goodkind looks at her through the big window.

She even teaches Toni how to embroider, and Toni feels a bit embarrassed for her callous hands, a constant memory of her freedom from when she was a teenager and was allowed to play basketball.

Ms Goodkind lightly touches her palms, noticing it, that afternoon.

«You’re a very hard worker, Toni. I’m thankful for everything you do around the house.» 

Toni nods, and she appreciates that, because Ms. Goodkind said it as if it was optional.

Still, the situation Toni is in isn’t all Ms. Goodkind’s fault, and she’s still grateful that she kept her with her, safe under the protection of her last name. So Toni gives something back, opening up a bit:

«It’s actually from before the Revolution. I used to play basketball.» 

Ms. Goodkind’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and she hesitates a bit, before joking: «Well, good for me then. I’ve always had a soft spot for athletes.» 

Toni’s chest trembles, but she doesn’t dwell on that. Is that Stockholm syndrome, or has Ms. Goodkind always had such a pretty, honey-dripping voice?

> _xxxiii._

«I need to tell you something.» 

They’re in the kitchen, as Toni is cleaning the table, and the rest of the staff is sleeping already. Toni never knows when Ms. Goodkind is going to sneak up on her, emerging from the door, at whatever time of the day or the night. As if looking precisely for Toni.

«I’m listening, ma’am.» 

Ms. Goodkind sits at one of the chairs, and it’s weird seeing her in the kitchen, since it’s an environment a lady like her wouldn’t want to attend.

«I’ve done bad things.» 

Toni would snort, because yes, she has, as Toni remembers vividly the rope, and the way she held her in place, or the way she never looked at her in the eyes _after_. She remembers the punishments, the isolation, the mind games, the jealousy for something Toni had no control over.

Still, she says, with a neutral expression: «Haven’t we all, ma’am?» 

«Not you, but that’s beside the point.» Ms. Goodkind half whispers the next part: «I’ve killed him.» 

Toni knew it. She fucking knew it, and sure, that means that Ms. Goodkind is an assassin and she’s dangerous, and if she’s killed someone what could stop her from killing again, but fuck, if Toni isn’t impressed. If she isn’t impressed and morally ambiguously enough, respectful. Toni has always had her ethical stances all over the place, though.

«May I ask how did you do it, ma’am?» 

Toni is both curious, and wants to know what to be aware of, just in case.

«Gas leak, in the bedroom.» 

Toni nods, and guesses that she started sleeping in the guest room long before she officially transferred there.

«You look calm. Why do you look so calm?» Ms. Goodkind asks again, and she looks apprehensive.

Toni doesn’t know what to tell her. «You didn’t do anything bad, if you ask me.» 

Ms. Goodkind looks at her, inscrutable, studying her.

Toni goes as far as smiling at her, with a tight-lipped, nervous smile.

«Have a good night, Toni.» 

«You too, ma’am.» 

Toni doesn’t know what pushed Ms. Goodkind to trust her with such delicate information. Her testimony isn't worth a thing against one of a lady, but still.

> _xxxiv._

Ms. Goodkind has never wanted any damsel in her house, to make her company, to help her out with bathing, to do all the things a lady shouldn’t do, if someone else lower in class could. Now Toni can guess why, as Ms. Goodkind is apparently attracted to women. Perhaps she didn’t want to be tempted, or things of this nature.

But Ms. Goodkind told her that she wouldn’t mind upgrading Toni to a damsel, even if Toni doesn’t have the preparation, the etiquette or the manners, and hire a proper housekeeper instead.

Ms. Goodkind told her that she could start tonight, to see if she’s fitting. She’s asked to show up in Ms. Goodkind’s private bathroom by nine in the evening.

Toni’s hands tremble, on the way up here. She’s heard what damsels do: they keep the lady company, they follow her, they have to know every gossip, they bathe and dress and comb the lady’s hair. Some even tuck the lady in bed at night.

Toni is expecting another mind game. With every step up the stairs, she feels it: Ms. Goodkind’s warm hand right where she’s been violated many times, in those past few years. It should have felt violating too, patronizing, overbearing, oppressive. But it felt like steading her, like Toni could give some of the weight she’s been carrying on Ms. Goodkind’s shoulders, as if Ms. Goodkind was asking her to — to repent.

_“I’ve done bad things”_ Ms. Goodkind said, a few weeks ago. Toni wonders if how she treated her is counted amongst them.

> _xxxv._

Ms. Goodkind is waiting for her, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, by the time Toni knocks. She has to knock, like Andrew had to, because Ms. Goodkind still is the queen here, even more than she has ever been. She has all the control.

«Come in, Toni.»

But Ms. Goodkind never said _“Come in, Andrew.”_ so Toni, even if she has no business to, feels special.

«Good evening, ma’am.» 

Ms. Goodkind seems a bit nervous, eyes flickering from Toni’s to the walls. She breathes in, before standing up.

«Undress me.»

Toni’s heart stops altogether. Is this how Andrew died, actually?

But she does, because that’s an order from her Mistress, so she closes the bathroom door behind her back and takes a step forward. «Yes, ma’am.» 

She doesn’t mean to be this slow, but it feels kind of forbidden, how Ms. Goodkind’s silky clothes slip off her bare shoulders, how her legs look when Toni kneels down to push the stockings all the way down, for the last piece of fabric.

Once Ms. Goodkind is completely undressed, and Toni is still kneeled down in front of her, she dares to look up. Because they have this special relationship, that albeit frail, and Ms. Goodkind still has all the power over her, Toni knows she can look up.

And even if she’ll get punished, the moment her eyes lay on Ms. Goodkind’s bare body, she knows it’ll be worth it.

Toni feels her mouth go dry, as she trails with her eyes where she’s been avoiding to look, taking her Mistress’ underwear off. Her hairs, of that same blonde ashy colour, the folds underneath, the groin area, the hip, her thighs, her abdomen, the faint sign of a piercing that once has been there. That sparks Toni’s interest, and her eyes flicker up to Ms. Goodkind’s eyes, questioning. But her face is something else altogether, and for the second time, Toni feels like she cannot breathe.

She’s looking down at Toni with a sort of pleading expression, and this close, Toni can faintly smell the reason. And that produces a similar reaction in her because, despite their fucked-up relationship, all the bad things Ms. Goodkind — and the good ones, recently, that still don’t fully make up for the past — has done to her, Toni can tell she’s undeniably attractive. Not just a body, but her confidence and attitude and strength and brilliancy.

In a different life, Toni would have loved to fuck her. Right now, right here, against the bathroom’s door. Hard and fast, even violently, but perhaps there's a bit of bitterness there, for how she's been treated.

Toni stands up, and she tries not to dwell with her gaze too much on Ms. Goodkind’s breasts, on her nipples, but fuck, even innocent things like her shoulders, or her neck that has been exposed for her up until that moment.

«I’m turning the water on now, ma’am.» Toni informs her, her voice husky against her dry throat, and she’d be pleased to witness the reaction it had on Ms. Goodkind, if her own mind hadn’t been so foggy.

Toni feels a bit powerful, as she waits for the tub to be filled with steamy hot water, all clothed, while her Mistress is naked before her.

So very close. Just a foot apart. If Toni extended her hand, she could touch her.

«Toni, the water.» 

Toni’s eyes turn to the already filled tub, on the verge of overflowing, as she got lost in her own thoughts, forcing herself to look at the walls.

«Oh, fuck-» Toni mutters before she can stop herself, bending over the tub to close the tap, knowing that if Ms. Goodkind gets in now, there will be a mess on the floor.

«I’m- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention-» 

«It’s alright. Fetch me a bucket.» Ms. Goodkind just tells her, calm and collected, and with that, Toni is running out of the room, to obey.

> _xxxvi._

It feels like breathing again, once she’s out of Ms. Goodkind’s bathroom, and even more so, when she’s out of her new bedroom that connects the former room to the corridor.

She runs down the hallway, down the stairs, all the way to the kitchen to fetch the largest bucket she can find. She screwed up, she slurred in front of her Mistress, and she’s taking forever to come back.

Still, Toni feels her head light. The vision of Ms. Goodkind’s body, the notion of what being so close to Toni’s face provoked in her, it was enough. It gave her plenty to think about.

> _xxxvii._

Ms. Goodkind lets Toni do it, as she immerses the bucket in the bathtub to take enough water off.

Once it’s fixed, Ms. Goodkind looks at her with expectation. Toni has no clue what she’s supposed to do.

Ms. Goodkind extends a hand then, and Toni knows that she’s supposed to help her in the water. So Toni does, and she offers her forearm for her Mistress to hold onto.

«Will you lather me, Toni?» 

Ms. Goodkind looks at her through lidded eyes, through glowing eyes, biting her lower lip, in a way that has Toni wishing she was a bar of soap.

«Of course, ma’am.» 

> _xxxviii._

Toni can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s been a few days, and they’ve had plenty of interactions ever since.

Still, Toni can’t stop thinking about any of it. How Ms. Goodkind turned around to let Toni run the sponge on her body, on _every part_ of her body. How Ms. Goodkind kneeled in the bathtub, her back to Toni, her hands pressed against the wall. And, fuck, if that wasn’t a sight. Her Mistress’ lower back, her _ass_ , the way her thighs parted, the way her fingers curled against the wall, perfect nails and white knuckles. The faint sign of the wedding ring, Toni is pretty sure she only wears in public now.

How Toni pressed the sponge everywhere her Mistress required her to, how Ms. Goodkind had been a tease, telling her not to be shy, to wash her like she washed the whole house.

_“There’s no comparison though, ma’am.”_ Toni told her, with a thread of voice, and her Mistress liked that, because she pressed her back against Toni’s front, getting all her clothes wet. But Toni didn’t mind, not when she could hold Ms. Goodkind’s stomach with the hand who wasn’t holding the sponge, pressing the other one right there. On her inner thighs, on her hips, between her legs.

Ms. Goodkind had been shaky between her arms, and Toni didn’t know if she was supposed to ask, but she had been anticipated by her Mistress’ _“You can go now.”_

Sudden and abrupt, but her green eyes told Toni that she needed some time for herself.

And, well, Toni was pleased.

Even if she never got to touch her like that, not even through a stupid sponge. She was glad she still managed to have that bit of control, over her Mistress’ corporal reactions.

> _xxxix._

The next few times Ms. Goodkind asks her to bathe her, Toni feels elated. She can’t wait. She walks a bit faster, tries to swallow her smiles, goes through the chores of the day with an upbeat.

The very second time it happens, Toni is sure Ms. Goodkind feels as tense as Toni is. She lets her strip her down, Toni fills the bath, Ms. Goodkind makes a joke not to get distracted, and Toni focuses solely on the water level — even if through its reflection she can still see her Mistress’ body.

When Toni touches her again, every time, she gets a bit bolder. She still waits for Ms. Goodkind’s permission, but she puts a bit more pressure. She travels an inch further in her thighs. She spends a bit more time on her breasts. When she washes her hair, she massages her scalp, in a way that makes Ms. Goodkind’s eyes flutter, and Toni’s stomach flutters with them.

When a little moan escapes from her Mistress’ lips, she tells her to leave, with the previous week’s exact words.

And it happens again, and again, and _again_.

And Toni is positive that she’s on the verge of insanity.

> _xl._

Ms. Goodkind teaches her how to play chess.

There are tons of names, openings, middle games strategies, and Toni still messes up how the knight moves.

«You can’t castle when you’re in check.» 

They’re playing in Ms. Goodkind’s office, and that is the second time Toni sets foot in, in a year and a half.

She’s awful at chess, but she just started, while Ms. Goodkind has kind of a reputation for not letting men win. That’s one of the many reasons Toni respects her that much — despite everything.

Toni puts her king down, in a sign of surrender, because Ms. Goodkind is this close to checkmate her, she can at least lose with some dignity.

Now that Toni has some.

Now that Toni is better.

«I didn’t peg you for a quitter.» Ms. Goodkind tells her, and the side of her eyes wrinkle a bit with the smile she gifts Toni.

Toni is mirroring it, before she can catch herself. «You’re not easy to play against, ma’am.» 

It’s late, and their only source of light is a candle, flickering from time to time, drawing their shadows on the wall. Ms. Goodkind isn’t sitting on her throne: they’re both on simple chairs, in front of each other, the chessboard between them.

As if they were equals.

If Toni knew how to play, she wonders if she could actually try and beat Ms. Goodkind, or if she’s supposed to let her win. If Ms. Goodkind is a hypocrite, and only she can fight the authorities.

«Would you like a rematch?» 

Perhaps that’s an answer, or perhaps her Mistress just wants to feel powerful again.

Toni can’t help but look at her, with each piece she places on her side. She just played white, so now she’s playing black.

Toni wonders if there’s a downside, to being used to having so much power in one’s hands. If there’s a need to release, if it brings constant tension, if it feels like crashing. Responsibilities, expectations, not being able to be oneself. Toni remembers the sharp tone Ms. Goodkind used to speak with, back when Andrew was around.

Toni wonders if Ms. Goodkind is better now, too.

«Toni? You have a habit of staring at me.» 

Ms. Goodkind is still merciless, because she always points that out, and Toni always averts her gaze, as if she was a kid caught with her hands in the cookie jar.

«I’m sorry, ma’am. I was trying to absorb your knowledge.» 

There’s that, too. As Ms. Goodkind started to joke around her, somewhere along the path, Toni started joking too.

Ms. Goodkind offers her a small smile, a smile she’s hiding behind two fingers, as pensive she’s planning her opening move.

As if Toni wasn’t going to lose anyway.

> _xli._

Ms. Goodkind with her hair down is something Toni is still trying to get used to.

Except, when she wears it down right before immersing herself in the bathtub, Toni knows there’s a purpose, and it only lasts a few seconds, before they get damp.

But now, as they’re playing yet another chess match in Ms. Goodkind’s office, about a month later, and Toni has had time to train and get better — now she’s wearing her hair down for the first time, outside of the bathroom or the bedroom.

She took her hair tie off with such nonchalance, that had Toni feel as if she was in Andrew’s shoes, for a moment. As if Ms. Goodkind was her wife, and they were casually playing, before slipping in bed, and making love to each other.

Toni looks down at the board.

She wets her lips, focused, trying to find a way to get her last bishop out of that death trap Ms. Goodkind’s queen and rook.

«You flex your jaw, when you’re thinking hard.» Ms. Goodkind’s soft voice distracts her, and her elaborate plan to threaten her rook with a set of pawns in a hedgehog system flies out of her mind at that.

Toni blinks, and shifts her eyes on Ms. Goodkind’s sweet and curious ones.

Ms. Goodkind chuckles to herself, before standing up, and circling the board. With a hand on Toni’s chair’s back, she leans down, their faces quite close to each other. Close enough to take every mole, every freckle, every little chicken pox scar. Ms. Goodkind’s perfume, the shadows the candle is drawing on her neck.

Toni feels her mouth watering.

«Look, you can do this…» Ms. Goodkind starts, leaning even closer, her fingers taking Toni’s rook from the other side of the board, setting it in line with her own queen.

«I won’t take it, because there’s the king behind, and a queen is worth more than any other piece.» 

Ms. Goodkind turns her head towards Toni’s, and they’re close in a way they’ve never been, not even in their bathtub sessions. In a way that Ms. Goodkind’s eyes flicker down to Toni’s lips, and they _stay_ there.

Toni feels intoxicated, but perhaps it’s her Mistress’ perfume.

«I understand.» She manages to say, and with that, Ms. Goodkind is back in her seat.

The queen truly is worth more than any other piece — on that they agree.

> _xlii._

The cook tells Toni that she’s supposed to wake Ms. Goodkind this morning, because she has a doctor appointment. Usually Ms. Goodkind wakes up on her own, just a little later than the staff. With no alarm, letting the sun wake her up, as she once told Toni.

Toni doesn’t understand it, because she could literally just stay in bed all day, if she wanted to.

But now Toni is walking to Ms. Goodkind’s room, and she has never woken anyone up, so she isn’t sure what’s the proper way to.

She knocks on the door, for starters. She knows a few times, every time louder, until on the fourth one, she hears muffled noises behind it.

«Can I come in, ma’am?» Toni shouts behind the door, and after a moment of silence, Toni just opens the door. Because she’ll get punished if Ms. Goodkind gets late to her appointment because of her — even if Toni hasn’t been punished once, ever since Andrew died, two years ago.

Ms. Goodkind is propped up on her elbows, a frown on her face, her hair dishevelled, her white nightgown half down one of her shoulders.

Toni feels like having stepped into a forbidden land, somewhere intimate, somewhere only one’s partner is supposed to be. Ms. Goodkind squints her eyes, and she looks even cuter doing that, before a tired smile plays on her lips.

«G’morning.» She drags, voice sharp and low, and it makes Toni chuckle despite herself.

«Good morning, ma’am. I’ve been told you needed to wake up early today.» 

She nods, and it feels weird calling her by her last name, as she almost looks like a child, in this situation.

Toni walks to open the large wall-high windows, to make the air circulate. She grabs the clothes Shelby prepared the night before on the chair, and she walks back on the bed, where Shelby is now sitting, bare feet dangling.

Toni kneels in front of her, and she almost feels like a knight by doing so, as she puts her socks on. Shelby’s hands travel to Toni’s shoulders for stability, Toni’s head touches Shelby’s stomach with the motion, and it almost feels like a weird embrace.

> _xliii._

Toni finds a wrapped chocolate on her pillow, one of these afternoons, after she’s washed the dishes.

She doesn’t have to wonder who that was, as Shelby usually spends her time next to her, as Toni does the house chores.

She still hasn’t been upgraded to anything, and Toni wonders if it slipped past Shelby, if it was just a lie, or if she’s still looking for a substitute.

A Mistress isn’t supposed to make her staff gifts. But a Mistress also doesn’t have obligations of any kind, so that, perhaps, might just have been another manifestation of Ms. Goodkind’s independence.

Toni loves it, whatever it means.

> _xliv._

They find a substitute, a month and a half later, and now Toni is spending all of her time by Shelby’s side. Reading for her, playing chess with her, discussing what they read, listening to Shelby’s financial strategies for her inherited goods. Shelby teaches plenty of games: they play cards, they play scrabble, they play every single day, and it’s one of Toni’s favourite moments.

It almost feels like a fantasy, or a distant dream, that first year.

> _xlv._

Shelby gulps, and takes Toni’s hand in her own, throwing the sponge down somewhere in the water.

«Please, Toni.» 

It’s quick, it’s desperate, and Toni’s brain is too damn slow to react on the spot.

It’s one of the bathing sessions, and now that Toni is Shelby’s official damsel, she’s taking care of it once every two days. Toni knows it’s a bit of a waste, as they have a shower too, but if Shelby likes it that way, who is Toni to deny her as much? (Perhaps it’s her egoistic self, that knows she isn't needed in a shower.)

Toni has been teasing her imperceptibly like any other time. But perhaps it’s been the afternoon spent reading Shakespeare, or the morning spent walking side by side in the park, or even the fact that they ate together, at the same table, for the first time — making small talk, as if they were partners.

Perhaps it’s all that, or something else entirely, but Shelby is downright asking Toni to fuck her, right now, in the bathtub.

And if that hasn’t been a fantasy of Toni ever since that little forbidden game started, months ago. If it hasn’t been sweet torture, something she got off to, in the privacy of her bedroom, a million times now.

If this is going to happen now, and it might not ever happen again, Toni isn’t going to waste it just obeying. Because now Toni has all the control, and their relationship is no longer polluted by hierarchies the way it was before, but scars are hard to fade.

«Please what, _ma’am_?» Toni says, and she knows her tone is dripping with irony at the title, because Shelby sounds as if she could call Toni ma’am right now, just to be touched.

They’re in the same position they always are. Not daring to look at each other, Shelby on her knees, the water reaching midway to her tights, one of her hands pressed against the wall, the other one currently on Toni’s other hand, keeping it in place on Shelby’s mount of venus. The tips of Toni’s fingers brushing against Shelby’s folds.

«You know what.» 

Shelby’s voice alone could make Toni go to the other end, for how she sounds impatient and needy, but still trying so damn hard to keep control and power.

«I’m not a telepathist, ma’am.» 

Shelby’s thumb traces circles against the back of Toni’s hands, perhaps hoping that will explain.

So Toni lets her hand travel further down, pressing against Shelby’s entrance, feeling its lubricated-ness.

Shelby lets her head fall on Toni’s shoulder, and this way, Toni can look at her expression. It’s priceless, how her brows are furrowed, her lips are parted, as if gasping for air, her neck is exposing, the column moving with every swallow, and how her eyes are looking directly up at Toni — with eyes that could burn a hole in her.

Toni feels speechless. So she lets her actions speak, as she lowers her mouth to place a kiss on Shelby’s naked shoulder. It feels a bit salty, like skin usually does, and Toni places a second one, then a third, leaving a trail behind her, reaching up to Shelby’s jaw.

She moves her fingers on the length of Shelby’s entrance, and with each kiss, she dips a bit more inside. Then out, then giving attention to the ball of nerves above it.

Shelby shakes a bit under her touch, never leaving her eyes, as her eyelids look heavier, as if she was fighting against her own body to keep looking at Toni.

It flatters her. It makes Toni feel worthy to be looked at, despite the urges.

The hand holding Shelby in place, the one across her abdomen, travels upwards to touch her nipples, to play with them, experiment with what Shelby will like or not.

Shelby gives up her fight, resting her eyes for a bit, or perhaps it’s out of shame, as she repeats in a sigh: « _Toni._ » as if it was an admonishment, as if Toni wasn’t quite doing what she was supposed to do.

Once Shelby’s eyes open once more, Toni is speechless, because that is indeed an admission of the power Toni is holding right now, as she quite literally has Shelby in her hands.

«I’m here, ma’am.» 

Toni can tell it takes a lot of pride for Shelby — no, for Ms. Goodkind — to ask: «Please.» 

So Toni gives her just that, as she lets the full length of two fingers get inside of her, the inner part of her palm pressing against her clitoris. She switches motions, curls those fingers, finds patterns, follows textures, adds a third finger — all keeping Shelby’s eyes in her own, as if it was all just a challenge, another one of their games.

When Shelby’s hand moves from the wall to hold on Toni’s neck, and the one still keeping the back of her hand in place — still trying to have an illusion of control over the situation — goes to cup Toni’s cheek, Toni knows what Shelby is asking.

She knows it even before Shelby can say it, she knows as she sees Shelby shutting her eyes, letting her hips rock on Toni’s hands, always affirming her independence even in a situation like that.

«Will you- Toni, will you- _Fuck_.» 

That is the very first time Toni hears Shelby cuss, and it pushes Toni even more over the edge, if that was even possible. Just as that, just at Shelby’s needy voice, and the look of everything that is happening before her, Toni feels her own body demand attention, and she tries easing it as much as she can, with her hands occupied, by pushing herself a bit against the side of the bathtub — which only provides faint torture, if anything.

Feeling her own face distorted in a frown, Toni obeys, because that’s everything she can do, before she explodes. «Yes, _Shelby,_ yes.» She answers, anticipating her request, registering Shelby’s eyes turn lucid.

When Shelby comes, with the most obscene moan, a mixture between _“Toni”_ and a cuss she can’t quite decipher, Toni helps her ride off her orgams, before lowering her for a moment in the now cold water.

> _xlvi._

Everything is still, for a moment. As if they were in a real-life checkmate.

Toni feels her centre still pulsing, still demanding, but she’s more occupied with registering Shelby’s reaction to what just happened.

Toni fetches her the towel, as Shelby steps out of the tub, not quite meeting her eyes, on trembling legs. If Toni hugs her through the towel, as she wraps it around her, she says it’s just because she got her clothes wet as well.

That’s what Shelby points out, placing a hand on Toni’s stomach. «I’m sorry, for the-» 

«It’s no problem… ma’am.» 

They look at each other, and the awkward pause in which Toni tried to understand what she was supposed to call her Mistress, pushes Shelby in a laugh.

«The offer is still standing. You can call me by my name, when it’s just the two of us.» 

Toni nods, even if she isn’t quite sure if she’ll be able to do it, without being reminded of all _that_.

While Shelby dresses in her nightgown, and Toni cleans the floor of the drops they spread with their movements — and yes, it was messy, on top of all — Shelby throws, with a disarming casualty:

«I wouldn’t mind it happening again. If it’s something you want too, that is.» 

Toni stills her hands, as her thoughts get confused. Because even if she’s the one dressed up, and Shelby is the one still half-naked, Shelby is Ms. Goodkind, Shelby is the Mistress, not her. And in this household there’s no _“if you want too”_.

There’s just Shelby, who used Toni, and Toni, who has been too stupid and horny to catch that before it was too late.

«Sure, ma’am.» 

When Toni briefly glances at her, Ms. Goodkind looks hurt, for some reason.

But Toni has to guard her heart. That’s the only thing she has left.

> _xlvii._

She finds another wrapped up chocolate, the next day, with a note on it, in perfectly curvy handwriting. _“Take your day off! — Shelby”_

Toni knows it’s risky to let others know they have the kind of confidence to call each other by first names, for the gender traitor thing.

But Ms. Goodkind is a widow now, so perhaps it no longer applies.

> _xlviii._

They still play, and Toni still feels grateful that that’s her occupation now.

She tries to shake everything off her shoulders, and to let Ms. Goodkind dwell on the illusion that they’re actual friends.

(If Toni dwells on it too, it’s just to act better, she tells herself.)

> _xlix._

It happens again. It happens again, and again, and _again_ , but everytime, it looks as if Ms. Goodkind didn’t really want it to. As if she always checked on Toni first.

The second time it happens, she turns around. That’s something that never ever happened in the bathtub before. Too intimate, too personal.

She turns around, and she scrutinizes Toni’s gaze, who just offers her a tight-lipped smile, sponge in mid-air, unsure of what to do.

«Can I ask you to touch me, Toni?» 

It’s simple, and it’s honest, in a way that leaves her speechless for a moment. But again, it’s just a mirage of power, as if Toni said no, she could be punished.

(She hasn’t been punished in almost three years now, but that perhaps makes it even worse, because she would no longer be used to it.)

Toni breathes in, deeply, fully, and nods.

By the time Shelby comes, their foreheads pressed together, Toni’s eyes burn, threatening to spill something out. Her chest aches, her throat feels knotted.

That’s when Toni realizes.

She doesn’t really give a fuck about power, and Ms. Goodkind could order her around all day, because, honestly, Toni finds it kind of hot too.

What Toni cannot do, is that overwhelming feeling of having her heart full, the urge to kiss Shelby on the mouth, the way lovers do, the urge to hold her in a tight embrace, the urge to sleep next to her, the urge to run her fingers through her hair — that’s what Toni can’t deal with.

But, stupidly enough, she lets Ms. Goodkind step on her feelings, just to make her feel good for a few minutes.

> _l._

«Toni.» 

It’s bath time, and albeit _it_ happens often, the times it doesn’t, there’s usually a reason. Because they had something akin to a fight in the afternoon — even if there’s no such thing as fights, in a power-unbalanced relationship like theirs — and Shelby feels guilty. It’s also happened that Shelby has bathed on her own, after a particular reference to that first year, that had Toni shut down in herself for the rest of the day.

As if Ms. Goodkind randomly forgot everything she did to Toni.

It’s bath time, and that afternoon nothing in particular has happened. Toni has just been a bit in her own mind, because they’ve seen a little bird with one of its wings broken on their walk by the lakeside, and Shelby brought it to the vet. It was silly, but it got Toni pensive all day, feeling that a bit like a metaphor, and finding in it how Shelby acted so _different_ now. Now that Andrew was gone, now that her father no longer had any kind of influence on her, it was as if this kind person blossomed, leaving a mean and empty envelope behind.

Toni felt herself falling deeper in love, if anything.

She really wished this wasn’t bath night.

«Yes, ma’am?» 

«I was wondering if you could sleep next to me, tonight. If that’s not a problem.» 

It’s surreal, and Toni wonders if Ms. Goodkind feels lonely, sleeping all alone. If she felt lonely in the past three years. If she misses Andrew. If she loved him.

It tastes like a bitter thought, in her mouth.

«Of course, ma’am.» 

> _li._

Bath time is innocent. Shelby doesn’t look at her much, and when Toni catches her staring, she averts her eyes. Ever since that second time, it became normal for Shelby to face her, during bath time. To rest her hands on Toni’s shoulders. To rest her forehead on the crook of her neck, when she was tired.

Cruel, gripping at Toni’s heart, biting down on it.

«Can I ask you something?» Shelby asks her, as she’s resting her temple against Toni’s, and Toni is leathering her back.

«Sure, ma’am.» 

«When we- when you- what do you do after?» 

Toni doesn’t need to look at her, to know that she’s at least blushing, or twisting her mouth in embarrassment. It makes her faintly smile.

«I change my clothes, ma’am.» 

That makes Shelby chuckle, and Toni is proud of it.

«Just that?» 

«Then I brush my teeth, ma’am.» 

«Then what?» 

«Then I get under the sheets.» 

Toni feels Shelby gripping a bit tighter on her shoulders, gulping, and against her hands, she feels Shelby’s rib cage expanding a bit, as if taking a breath in.

«What else?» 

Toni hesitates. She doesn’t know what Shelby wants to hear. She doesn’t know what Ms. Goodkind wants to hear either, and if the two coincide, or if the distinction lives only in Toni’s head, or Shelby feels like a different person sometimes, too.

«It’s not appropriate, ma’am.» 

Toni is sure Shelby will ask her please. And Toni is also sure that, if she does, Toni will tell her everything, and not because she’s Ms. Goodkind, but because she’s the woman she couldn’t say no to, even if she was a humble baker down the street.

But Shelby nods against her temple, and moves her arms around Toni’s neck, keeping her close, pressing her front against hers. Hugging her.

And Toni feels her eyes burning. She feels them burning, and her breathing increasing, and her lips press in a thin line, as she holds Shelby back, the sponge now floating in the water, both her hands between Shelby’s shoulder blades.

She doesn’t mean to, but she sobs.

And Shelby’s hands keep her even closer. And that only makes Toni feels worse, or better, as she doesn’t understand a single thing. She just knows she’d like to melt against Shelby’s body, be absorbed by her, and live as one.

That only makes her sob once more, and it’s really pathetic, so Toni tries to justify herself.

«Fuck, I’m sorry-» But her voice comes out broken, and hoarse, and that’s even worse.

Shelby doesn’t say a thing, and Toni is grateful for that, but she moves her head a bit behind, to place a kiss on Toni’s temple. Toni leans in, and Shelby showers her with little kisses, probably understanding the power they hold.

Toni feels like exploding and calming down at once, with each one of them. Until she’s so tired, from the crying and the emotions, that she rests her forehead on Shelby’s shoulder, as Shelby runs her fingers through her hair.

> _lii._

It takes Toni a moment to understand how Shelby must be freezing.

She breaks the hug suddenly, and she can tell Shelby is startled by it, but she takes the towel and wraps it around Shelby at once, helping her out of the shower. She helps her get dressed, walking back to clean the tub only once she’s ready to sleep.

Kneeled before the tub, taking the stopper off, when Toni notices Shelby is kneeling beside her, ready to help her out, with a shy smile.

> _liii._

Toni has never slept better in her entire life. Being held by Shelby like that, curled against her, the heat of her body warming her, her perfume embracing her.

> _liv._

Toni growls that morning, as the sun rays filter through the curtains. She’ll never understand why Shelby doesn’t take the shutters down.

It’s oddly domestic, going through their morning routine together. Having breakfast together, brushing their teeth together.

They don’t talk about Toni’s little meltdown, and Toni is grateful for that.

> _lv._

It’s right after lunch, and Toni knows that Shelby likes to hear some poetry while resting her legs on her bed, back against the headboard, Toni on a chair next to the bed.

«You can sit next to me, you know. It’s not like we haven’t slept together.» Shelby tells her, once Toni sits down and opens Petrarch’s sonnets.

So she does, and goes to sit right next to her. She starts from where they left:

« _Love discovered me all weaponless,_   
_and opened the way to the heart through the eyes,_ _  
_ which are made the passageways and doors of tears.» 

It feels oddly fitting, and it forces Toni to pause for a moment, briefly lost in thought.

As she opens her mouth once more to reprise, she sees, as she feels, Shelby’s hand on hers.

She lifts her gaze to meet Shelby’s, and it steals her breath, unsurprisingly.

«Can I kiss you?» 

Toni doesn’t know if the poem revealed something to her, something she didn’t quite know yet, or if Shelby had that planned for some time now already.

Still, Toni nods, because that’s something she’s been wanting for a long time now, and Shelby’s romantic taste in her reading surely hadn’t helped Toni with her situation.

So Toni lowers the book, holding it with just one hand, her index keeping track of the page they’re in. Shelby cups her cheek with one hand, the free one, with their interlaced ones resting on Toni’s tight.

It’s sweet, and slow, and tentative, and Toni feels like getting lost in Shelby. Too many stimuli, from her scent, to how her lips feel against hers, the pressure of her hand on her cheek she’s leaning into, the way her hand holds Toni, and squeezes it, the way Shelby is leading the kiss as well.

But Toni really doesn’t care. She’s grateful, if anything, because she feels like getting lost in Shelby, in the faint taste of the coffee she had after lunch, in Shelby’s content sight, as they catch their breath.

And as the kiss gets more heated, Toni leaves the book on the side, the page they’re in forgotten, but those words are printed in her mind now. Shelby mounts on top of her, and Toni lets her, her hands keeping her in balance, resting on Shelby’s hips.

Shelby’s hands travel all over Toni’s body, and Toni would like to offer her all of it, as if sacrificing herself. Not to Ms. Goodkind, like she already has, unwillingly, but to Shelby, to sweet and kind Shelby, to the woman who held her, to the woman she fell in love with.

«Can I- Can I touch you?» Shelby asks her, slightly panting, and perhaps Shelby metamorphosed the first time she asked her precisely that, in her office, one hand touching where Toni needed to be healed.

«Yes, Shelby, _yes_.» 

It’s enough to make Shelby a bit bolder, as her hands slip under Toni’s shirt, and explore her, work her up, and push her over the edge.

When Toni falls apart under her touch, she doesn’t feel half as empty as she does every time she works herself off, alone, in the privacy of her bedroom.

Because when Toni opens her eyes, a moment later, there are Shelby’s surprised ones, impossibly green ones, looking as if they just witnessed the most beautiful phenomenon they ever saw.

And it makes Toni feel like combusting on the spot.

> _lvi._

«I never got a chance to apologize.» Shelby whispers to her, later, as she’s cuddling her, placing soft kisses on the top of Toni’s hand.

Toni feels content enough, and she doesn’t feel like Shelby has to apologize. But, if Shelby needs to, she’ll let her.

«You’re forgiven, Shelby.» 

«Wait, Toni, let me do this properly.» And with that, she does. She apologizes listing every little detail, even ones that have been forgotten now, years later, but that Shelby still remembers. And perhaps, that first year has been hard for Toni, but the crashing guilt that Shelby is exhibiting now, has probably been just as bad.

But Toni wouldn’t know, and she doesn’t even really care to compare, so she just snuggles closer to Shelby, and repeats:

«You’re forgiven, Shelby.» 

**Author's Note:**

> if you havent watched the handsmaid tale yet, i highly recommend it (its on amazon prime too)
> 
> i know the title is ridiculously long, but that's the thing i like most about fanfics
> 
> if you want to read petrarch's poetry you can find it here: https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Italian/Petrarchhome.php


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